


D --> Neigh8ourly affairs

by Kira_Gold



Series: Homestuck random character prompts :з [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternia, But not much really, Friendship, Gen, Has blood in it, Mentions Terezi, POV Second Person, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Quite a lot but not graphic, The timeline may be a bit wrong, Trolls are speaking in quirks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Gold/pseuds/Kira_Gold
Summary: Vriska does not come to visit you often, preferring chat messages to real life communication, but when she does, she always knocks. Well, usually.





	D --> Neigh8ourly affairs

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting pesterlogs is SUCH a bitch but looks cool so is worth it!!  
> (Vriska uses too much 8's in this because she's a bit too exited lmao)

Vriska always knocks. Vriska knocks precisely eight times and then waits patiently for you to open. This always surprises you, because even Nepeta, if she chooses to visit, bursts in without notifying you of her presence, but Vriska, who is known for her impatience perhaps even more then for her cruelty, which does say something, chooses to wait. Of course, it may be because you are higher then her on the hemospectrum, but she always insists that “We are 8oth 8lue8loods, it doesn’t matter!!!!!!!!”, and you doubt that is the reason which coerces her to — for once — act according to the rules of the etiquette. Perhaps it is because of her obsession with number eight — eight letters, eight eyes, eight knocks. Perhaps because of something else. Either way, Vriska always knocks. 

Or at least usually. 

Sometimes she slams the door of your hive open, runs up to your workshop where you spend most of your free time, rests her hands on the table, knocking some robotic parts off it and never apologising. At that moment her eyes shine with unusual, unhealthy excitement, her whole body is shaking and she speaks much too loudly. And when that happens you know something is going on.

_“I m8de Tavr8s jump 8ff a cliff! Hill8rious, right?!”  
“The gh8sts 8ren’t g8nna 8e a pro8lem 8ny more. I kill8d Aradi8.”_

You always hear frustration in her voice along with excitement, anger along with laughter, and you know Vriska perhaps better then anyone else — but even you can’t tell what is going on through her head at those moments. Who is she angry with — said Tavros, said Aradia, you, someone else entirely or… herself? Of course she never admits even the fact of anger, making her tell who is its target would be something else entirely, but some part of you wants to know. Just to understand her better. And that same part of you always waits for these moments to come. 

This time though, this time it is different. Not entirely — she still bursts in, slamming the wooden door into the wall, she still laughs maniacally from the porch of the room, dragging the vowels in your name to her usual eight-numbers standard, but different. Because she only rests one hand on the table, swiping it from left to right and knocking a mechanism which took you a few hours to complete off it. It breaks into a dozen small details, but that’s not what you’re looking at. Instead you focus your gaze on a puddle of cobalt dripping from your desk onto the floor. 

“Neigh8our!” she greets, smirking, and when you look up, you see that her left eye — or eye socket, more appropriately — is empty, not counting the blood which is smearing across her face and a bunch of black debris sticking out from it. The earpiece of her glasses is bent, one of the lenses is shattered and they are barely holding on her face. “I h8ven’t seen y8u in for8ver! We t8tally need t8 catch up!”

And then you realise why there is a bit too much blood for one lost eye — her left sleeve is flapping around freely and instead of an arm there is a short stump and she struggles to keep her balance, jumping away from your desk and skipping around the room in a way too lighthearted to be even close to her real emotions. 

“D --> What happened, Vriska?” you ask, equally frustrated and concerned. She gives you a questioning look, then gazes theatrically on what is left of her arm and snorts. 

“8h this? N8thing m8ch, just a miiiiiiiin8r inc8nvenience! One 8itch th8ught she could m8ss w8th me!” 

“D --> It seems to me she has su%eeded,” you sigh. “Sit down, you need to stop the b100d.”

You rise, reaching to a drawer where you keep bandages — not like you’ve ever needed them before, but just in case you always have them by your side, — but Vriska waves her hand indifferently. 

“Why 8other? It d8esn’t even hurt! 8s I said alre8dy, it’s just 8n inconveni8nce!”

“D --> Do you even hear the way you are speaking?” you ask, nevertheless sitting back down. “Serket, it is not compulsory for you to try to seem STRONGER then you are in front of me.” 

“Oh wh8t?! I am a8solut8ly n8t trying, y8u dum8ass! It’s j8st the way I 8m!”

“D --> If you do not do something about the bleeding soon, you are going to c001lapse right here. And then I will have to deal with you.”

“N8nsense!” she snorts, skipping back to your desk and sitting on it, getting blood on some of your machines. You would push her aside, but you are afraid that with your strength you might add even more injuries, which isn’t at all something you intend to do. “I — am — alright. See? I can t8lk normally. Calmly. I’m good! Some 8itch is not going to mess me up to the p8int where I will need anyone’s help! And meanwhile, I came here to ask you h8w are you? We haven’t talked in aaaaaaaages!”

“D --> I hate to ruin it for you, but you need to do something about the wound,” you sigh heavily, looking at her. Vriska frowns, examining a small unfinished mechanism she took from one of the shelves, and snorts. 

“Party pooper!” she exclaims in the most childish way, biting her lip and then, suddenly starting to laugh, swings her arm, throwing the mechanism at your face. “F8ck y8u!” 

The piece though misses, flying more then ten centimetres away from your head, and Vriska growls, breathing raggedly. 

“Wh8 did I miss?” she demands, trying to cross her arms in a habitual movement, then realising an impossibility of such task and clenching her right fist. “Why c8n’t I see sh8t?!” 

“D --> Language, Vriska,” you ask, although it is not like she will ever listen, and then shrug. “I am not an e%pert, but it may be because seven of your usual eyes are missing.”

“Oh h8-ha-ha-ha-h8-ha-ha-ha,” she exclaims, pausing between each of the “ha”s and counting out precisely eight. “Look, Equi8s just m8de a joke! Wh8t a progr8ss! May8e at on8 point he will learn t8 8e less mor8id, am I right?! Actu8lly what am I saying, th8t is almost as unlik8ly as h-him ever stopping to m8ke these stupid m8chines!”

The stutter in her voice is slight and even she herself probably misses it, but it doesn’t go unnoticed past you, making you put the screwdriver aside, looking her straight at the eye. 

“D --> I am not joking, Serket. You need help.”

“What I need is you to g8t out of my face and then I-I w8ll be a8solutely alright!” she hisses, stands up from the desk and dashes towards the door. “I was planning a nice neigh8ourly get-t8gether, but apparently _someone_ is a t8tal 8ore!” 

Before you have time to reach out for her, to try to stop and help even if she doesn’t want that, Vriska marches out of the door of the workshop, shutting it behind her with a crash. The floor of your room is now flooded with cobalt blood, so is your desk, and you are almost ready to forget what just happened, going back to your work — after all, if Vriska decides that she doesn’t need help, even the biggest pain won’t stop her — but then you hear a loud thud right outside your door. A sound of something heavy dropping on the floor — and for some reason you are quite sure that cobalt blood is now flooding your hallway. The mess will have to wait for you to eliminate its cause.

CT: D --> Nepeta, would you mind to provide me with a short instruction on dealing with injuries   
AC: :33 < *ac purrks up worriedly*  
AC: :33 < *are you alright? what kind of injuries? she asks.*  
CT: D --> I am abso100tely fine, thank you. But I have an armless and eyeless Vriska passed out in front of my workshop so I would appreciate your help   
AC: :33 < what?!   
AC: :33 < i mean *ac asks in shock what?!*   
CT: D --> Drop the f001ish games, Nepeta, because I am not joking. If I do not stop the b100d soon, I believe her life may be in grave danger   
CT: D --> Not that I would be completely against it, but first of all she is a b100 b100d and not helping her would be immoral even though she is one step below me, and secondly I believe at some point we may regret letting her die now   
AC: :33 < well of course we would regret vwhiskers dying!! but the injuries do sound serious…   
AC: :33 < so, is your lusus around? not to be mean but i think he would do much better with furst aid!  
CT: D --> This is e%actly why I am asking you. He is out for a day   
AC: :33 < well that is bad!  
AC: :33 < i am defurnitely not the best troll to ask though i think!   
AC: :33 < maybe purrster terezi or karkitty?   
CT: D --> I have a STRONG suspicion that Terezi is the one responsible for her injuries. And I have no desire to contact Karkat any time soon   
AC: :33 < why though? karkitty is very nice and he would be able to help unlike me! :((   
AC: :33 < but i mean if you really don't want to i guess i could try…  
CT: D --> You are perfectly capable of helping, Nepeta. Remind me how many times have you gotten injured during hunting and dealt with it yourself perfectly well? But could you provide instructions as soon as possible, if I may request. I don’t want my carpet to be ruined by her b100d and at this rate it will be covered in cobalt quite soon  
AC: :33 < oh god it does sound pawful! okay, okay, i'll see what i can do! so, firstly…

It isn’t easy — and by that you do mean it is incredibly hard — to try to help someone with such injuries when you are strong enough to break their neck with a palm of your hand. But you don’t really have a choice — Vriska’s lusus is more likely to digest her at this state then help at all, the nearest hive is more then two hours away and your own lusus won’t be returning until the evening. All you have is a bunch of medicine, more adjusted to deal with burns and scratches then with chopped off limbs, and olive-coloured advises from your moirail on the screen. Seems like your first aid course is taught in an extreme situation by a partially unqualified but still experienced teacher. Could have been worse. 

In the end, you don’t do too bad. You suppose, just suppose, that many trolls would have managed to deal with this much better, but right now you are her only option, so she should be happy that you actually decided to waste your time on helping. You thank Nepeta, receiving a “:33 < *anytime! ac smiles to ct, as she hides back in the darkness of her cave*” as an answer, smile to yourself and decide to leave Vriska alone for now. You have a bloody mess to try and clean up, and she is still unhelpfully-unconscious. (You still lock the door to the guest bedroom where you left her. Just in case.) 

And then, of course, you decide to leave cleaning up to your lusus — after all, it is pretty much his job. Instead, while waiting for your guest-neighbour to finally wake up, you pick up her broken glasses from the floor, fidgeting. You are, of course, not capable of restoring her sight after one of her eyes has been literally scraped out (that being said, you are still wondering about the details), but you might as well fix the thing if she’s still going to wear it. It doesn’t take that long to create something similar to an eyepatch — you know her obsession with pirates well enough — and repair the earpiece, but apparently she is still not up (otherwise you would have definitely known), so you have time to work on something else. 

You can see it in her eyes that she to some extend wants to murder you when she breaks into your workshop yet again. You would question how did she managed to get out of the locked room, but you don’t have much time before she snorts arrogantly. 

“If you were gonna help, you could’ve at least done it well! I had to redo the 8andage myself, and with one hand, I’ll let you know, it’s aaaaaaaawfully inconvenient!” 

“D --> You should have just done it yourself before you collapsed,” you shrug indifferently, noticing though, that her voice got much less shaky and hysterical. Good. 

“I would have if I have gotten home!” she frowns. You sigh. 

“D --> I did not delay you. On the contrary, you were the one to think visiting me at this time would be necessary. And now 100k at all the b100d around.”

“That?” she snorts, looking at the cobalt on the floor, but the metal you are working with now is polished enough to see momentary print of terror on her face. In a second though she restores the sneering grin. “Oh that’s just a joke. You won’t 8e the one cleaning up anyways, lucky 8astard!” 

She marches toward you, almost intentionally stepping on the bloodiest parts, as if trying to prove something, but freezes right before your desk, staring at it in what can be called shock. 

“W8…” she whispers as you pick up her fixed glasses, passing them to her. Her gaze when she puts them on is, however, focused not at the eyepatch, but on your table. “Is this… lik8… for me?”

“D --> Well, I didn’t just decide to practice manufacture of robotic limbs for no reason. Take it as a present from one neighbour to another,” you shrug, again spectating the reflection of her face in the polished metal. From shock it goes to a wide grin, then, as she finally recollects herself, to a spuriously-condescending smile, then to a neutral expression with her right eye narrowed, and then, finally, to a smirk. 

“I g8ess — I _guess_ — I will accept it,” she nods slowly, and then, waving her hand sharply, almost giving up on something, smiles brightly and springs up to you, resting her arm on your desk and looking at the project excitedly. “Okay, you know wh8t, fine, this is actually amazing. Hey, will it 8e stronger then a usual troll hand? I dem8nd you make it stronger! Oh, oh, oh, and also could you like insert eight screws in each part? Yeah? Oh my god, I’m soooooooo gonna outdo that 8itch Terezi with this thingy, she’s gonna be so pissed I got this 8adass arm 8ecause she tried to kill me, can you im8gine?”

And seeing the excitement in her eyes is just enough to make you quite a bit involved in the discussion yourself. After all, Vriska may be cruel, arrogant and insufferable at times, but in those short moments when she rocks on her feet, her eyes shining, when she forgets or simply doesn’t want to hide her emotions — then you feel like you have really got a great — gr8 — friend. And that’s quite good enough for you.

———

She bursts in again not a week later, slamming her hands on your desk and leaving a dent in it with the metallic palm. However, she doesn’t bother to apologise, care or even notice, her smile unusually-wide and unusually-cruel. 

“I g8t my r8venge. I 8lind8d Ter8zi.” 

You sigh and look her in the eyes, one of them covered with an eyepatch you carved yourself. 

“D --> Circle of revenge complete?” you wonder as she snorts, then breaks into hysterical laughter. 

“N8t in a th8usand sweeps, n8igh8our.”

You didn’t expect any other answer.


End file.
